“Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild with a faery, hand in hand, for the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.” – William Butler Yeats

Reading has always been a central part of my life and listening to different voices has regularly occupied my podcast and youtube playlists but I now have a feeling that I had fallen victim to algorithms. It takes energy and time to seek out voices to listen to from both sides of an argument and a deliberate effort to not be swept up in the ardour of an issue without taking time to listen and make choices that are well thought through and purposed toward a sustainable change. I am beginning to wonder if I have any understanding at all about the issues that are meaningful to me or my children and I now know that the feeling I have of falling down a circular tunnel desperately trying to jam my rubber soled, old lady walking shoes into the sides so as to avert a crash landing is fear. It is a fear of not having the right language, a fear of not speaking up, a fear of speaking up, a fear of coming to conclusions with out enough supporting knowledge from all sides of the discussion. This fear has settled deep in my body, it is persistent and heavy to bear. This fear occupies huge chunks of my time while I am walking, driving, shopping, cooking, and even the beautiful lavender moments on either side of sleep.

After the agonizing deaths of Breonna Taylor in March 13, 2020 and of George Floyd on May 25, 2020, I seriously had to revisit my experiences and realise that there were moments I should have spoken to security personnel when they took my friend Moji aside. I should have had a keener eye to catch incidents that were uncomfortable for my Haitian friends in the medical office, and I began to wonder what I had missed over the years. I could not believe how insensitive I had been. The fact that I was unaware of their experiences was a loud piercing screech that spoke volumes to their pain that I was not privy to. Where had I been? Was I oblivious? Was I not listening? Did I not care? Was I callous? Was it even their responsibility to tell me how uncomfortable they had been? I was embarrassed to have such a smack-up-the-side-of-the-head moment thinking that just because we had a friendship that I would be privileged to hear about their pain. My white privilege shows up again and again and I have not been tuned in to it until now.

So I sit. I sit with my heartbreak, I sit with my mind numbing Netflix series and my fascination with all things chateau related on youtube. I sit with my white body. I shed tears for my family. I cringe for my friends. I remember times when I should have spoken out and did not. I wish I could be different than I am. I turn on my music but I am really only interest in Blues, Jazz, Spirituals – the type of music that speaks to lament and confusion and interestingly enough it bring me peace, it resurrects new hopefulness and gives me gumption to continue to seek out new voices, settle down deeply into a new learning and a willingness to live with the lament, watch closely, listen critically and absorb ways in which I am ignorant and careless. A significant length of time has passed but I am reading, I am thinking, I am confronting and I am determined to be as aware as I can be and change what I need to change so that I can be the best damn friend, the best damn mother-in-law, the best damn mother and the best damn potential grandma that I can be. I dream of a better world for my kin.

It has been hard for me to strike a balance between the importance of scientific thought and evidence, emotion, old and ancient wisdom, the human condition and intuition. There has always been a conundrum for me in that if I feel that I have tipped the balance of my attention in one way or another, that I may be missing something that will speak truth into the conversation I am trying to have with myself about any particular topic. Therefore, I insist on having a large table at which many voices are invited, opinions are welcome, blatant disregard for others is not tolerated and above all humility is vital. If there is one thing that really pisses me off, it is a lack of humility. I have turned off more than one voice in the past five months because arrogance was in the tone and verbiage of the speaker or writer. I do not mind passion, disagreement or even heated debate, I do not mind strong opinions but I do have a problem with those who are not considered in their speech and have not taken the time to listen to others who are part of the discussion.

“We do not see things as they are, we see them as we are.” – Anais Nin

In many ways it has become confusing for me to unravel what I am feeling because there has been catastrophe upon catastrophe. Between the global Covid-19 pandemic, Black Lives Matter, my inability to hug my children and loved ones, serious family illnesses, and financial instability among family and friends there are many conversations happening at once and I am a slow, very slow, processor. Therefore I have learned to refrain from spouting off (which in my earlier years got me into a lot of trouble) and take the time to listen and learn and find ways to imbed that new knowledge into my daily ways of living. It often begins with a conversation over dinner with my loving and well read husband, Dave. I process things through discussion and this is a great way to start off then it moves into my interactions as I move about the city. How do I feel when I encounter something that makes me uncomfortable, and how does my body respond to that and most importantly, why? I sure learn a lot about myself and the world around me when I take the time to be aware. I sometimes think that part of the issue of racism and other systemic plagues is that we don’t take time to ask the “why” question when we have a reaction, or even take the time to notice our reaction. We need to retrain our bodies and brains to not see everything that makes us uncomfortable as a threat.

What I have learned:

• sit – I have to be still to feel. My ability to process feelings and thoughts is directly related to the heart rate function on my smart watch. Passage of time needs to occur for me to become aware of my thoughts and feelings and how my physical body and state of emotions are affected.
• listen – It is important to listen to voices with whom I agree and disagree. Suppress my urge to say “but, but…” Listening without constructing an argument while doing so. Listening with out narcissistically making it about me.
• feel – I need to put words to my feelings. Words such as fear, rage, numb, vexed, shame, hopeless, anger, irritation, hurt, distress, guilt, rejection, defiant, tired, old, stupid…speak truth to my increased heart rate, my tears and my withdrawal.
• lament – Listening to stories of pain, feeling the cadence of anguish, reading the book of Job and ancient women who have learned the language that embodies sorrow – why oh why??
• hope – It was difficult to allow my natural tendency to find ways defy this hot mess. I felt guilty that I wanted to look for glimmers of hope and positive stories and to hear about things that were right in the world but it was necessary.
• nuance – Things are not as simplistic as they are purported to be. There are always layers upon layers that have relevance to any situation and I cannot begin to understand so I must invite others into the conversation I am having with myself.

Some of the voices I am reading and listening to (in no particular order, just as they came to mind):

• Kmele Foster
• Thomas Chatterton Williams
• Chloe Vladary
• John Wood
• Ijeoma Oluo
• Glen Loury
• Rachel Elizabeth Cargle
• Courtney Quinn Color Queen (for fun and a smile)
• Ibram X Kendi
• Coleman Hughes
• John McWhorter
• Austin Channing
• Resmaa Menakem
• Emily Bernard
• Voices from my faith community who have made it their life’s work to advocate for individuals who have been affected by the abuse of power
• People of colour who sit at my communion table
• And many white people who are engaging with people of colour in a respectful and meaningful way

Before I finish, I want to again reiterate what I wrote about in my first blog post a couple of months ago. The best practice I have engaged with is meditation. It prepares my mind and heart to accept truths about myself and my world and creates space and freedom to engage with dissenting voices and being the journey of transformation.

I hope for a better world for my children, grandchildren and more. I hope for a better humankind. I hope that we acknowledge the transgressions and trauma of the past so that we may heal. I hope that we do not ignore the wisdom of the ancients. I hope that I become more loving, more kind and more courageous. I hope I do not lose faith.

“Perhaps many things inside you have been transformed; perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad.” – Rainer Maria Rilke